


Spoils of Victory

by ember_firedrake



Category: Black Sails
Genre: M/M, Mirror Sex, Post-Battle, Riding, Victory Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 08:25:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8049256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ember_firedrake/pseuds/ember_firedrake
Summary: Upon the governor’s forces signalling their retreat, once it became apparent that the battle was at last over, Silver had turned to him, grinning widely, right before he kissed Flint full on the mouth. In full view of everyone, amidst whoops and raucous cheers.

(James Flint and John Silver celebrate their victory against England's forces. With sex. On the governor's bed)





	Spoils of Victory

James Flint watched the sails grow smaller on the horizon. They had won back Nassau, for a time. Woodes Rogers’ greatly depleted force was retreating, and scouts were on lookout to watch for any return. The war was far from won. There would be fortifications needed, resupply ventures, preparations against a possible Spanish attack or the return of England in the coming months. The fort would need to be strengthened and they would need to seek reinforcements from colonies around the new world. 

But the day, at least, had been won. Flint made his way through the town, energy buzzing beneath his skin. He needed to find Silver. Upon the governor’s forces signalling their retreat, once it became apparent that the battle was at last over, Silver had turned to him, grinning widely, right before he kissed Flint full on the mouth. In full view of everyone, amidst whoops and raucous cheers. 

“I need to go to the beach,” Flint had said, apologetically. He’d felt the adrenaline coursing through him, and he’d wanted nothing more than to let Silver take him right there, but there were more pressing matters. “I have to see to their retreat.”

Silver gave him an exasperated look, shaking his curls in way that belied his fondness. “And I need to get some weight off this leg a while. You make sure they’re off, come find me when you’re finished.” 

He'd shot a quick glance of concern at Silver, to ensure he wasn't hiding some deeper injury, but he'd seemed fine. Aside from minor scratches, they'd both escaped the battle relatively unscathed. And what a battle it had been. Though he'd personally seen to Silver's sword training and could attest to how much John had improved, he still found himself unconsciously at John's left side whenever they entered a fight. If anything, that positioning had only proved advantageous for the both of them. They had seemed to fight as one unit, guarding each other's backs while they fought with pistols and blades simultaneously. When one of them needed a moment to reload, they kept each other protected.

Their teamwork had had an effect upon their enemies as well; few redcoats had wanted to face their combined fury. Flint had never experienced anything that exhilarating, and it made him all the more aware of John’s absence from his side now. 

Flint arrived back at the street where he and Silver had last parted, gritting his teeth as he looked around. All around him, people tended wounded, but the general air was positive. Hopeful, even. Flint wanted to remind them that Rogers and his ships departing the island was not the end of England or civilization at large attempting to dictate their affairs, but that could wait until tomorrow. For now, let them celebrate. His eyes fell on the governor’s mansion, which Rogers had until today been using as a base of operations, and Rackham had used before that. A smile tugged the corner of Flint’s mouth, remembering a conversation he'd had one morning with Silver on the _Walrus_. 

_“What do you miss most when you're at sea?” John asked, rubbing the pads of his fingers against the prickly grain of Flint’s head._

_He sighed into the touch, arching his neck back like a cat. Still, he considered the question. “I miss the quiet,” he said at last. “I miss the warmth of a hearth with a real fire, smelling bread as it bakes in the morning. Enjoying food that isn't riddled with weevils, or being subjected to_ your _cooking.”_

_The cot beneath them rocked as Silver let out a low chuckle. “I'll have you know, I'm a fair decent cook when I don't have to do it in a cramped galley for sixty men.”_

_Still, Flint felt the brush of Silver’s beard followed by the press of lips to his head._

_“What about you?” Flint asked. “What do you miss when you're at sea?”_

_From the low rumble Silver let out as he hummed, Flint could tell his answer would be laced with innuendo. “A bed. A proper bed. Big enough for me to stretch out.”_

_“And big enough, too, for some of the acrobatics you'd like to attempt?” Flint asked with a wry arch of his eyebrow._

_Silver laughed, his body shaking with it. “Why, captain, you know me too well.”_

It didn't take him long, once inside the mansion, to locate Silver. He had only to find the largest bedroom. And there Silver was, already rid of his coat and shirt, sprawled back on the bed in half-nude repose. Flint’s breath caught as it always did when granted this sight, his gaze drawn to the glint of necklaces that lay against Silver’s sternum, the planes of his chest and taut muscles of his abdomen. Silver's hair, grown quite long now, fanned about his head like a halo. A now-familiar ache of longing lurched within Flint, and he closed the door behind him. 

Silver angled his head up from the bed, his lips curling into a smirk. “Ah, the victorious leader, back from the field of battle. I trust the governor’s ships retreated with their tails tucked sufficiently between their legs?”

“You know as well as I this isn't the end of the war,” Flint said. 

“Yes, but we won the _battle_ , and bought ourselves much-needed time to recruit reinforcements. Now get over here and join me on this obscenely large bed.”

“There's still much to be done,” Flint said, though he removed his coat, draping it over the closest chair as he approached the bed. He noted Silver's prosthesis already propped against it. 

“And all of it can wait until tomorrow,” Silver said, casting his eyes hungrily over Flint as he pulled his shirt over his head then bent to remove his boots. When Flint straightened upright again, Silver was drifting his hand down to the front of his trousers, palming his erection through the material. Flint’s face burned hot as Silver flicked open the buttons one at a time, then shifted to ease them off. “The men are celebrating their victory,” Silver continued, “I say we deserve the same.” 

“Do you now?” Flint said, staring as Silver’s hand moved in a loose grip over his cock. It was too much, the sight of him spread out sensuously on that large bed, his curly hair cascading over his shoulders and the blanket covering the bed. At Silver’s smirk, Flint reached for his own trousers to push them free of his hips. Then, naked, he moved forward, crawling up the bed until he was braced over Silver, staring down into those clever blue eyes. He held himself there, knowing Silver waited for him to lean down for a kiss, allowing the anticipation to drag out. “You realize this is probably the recently deposed governor’s bed?”

Silver arched an eyebrow at him, his eyes glinting wickedly. “All the more reason to defile it.” 

Flint lowered himself, meeting Silver’s waiting lips. The tension he'd felt during the battle, the worry he'd carried since the enemy surrendered, all of that fell away as he groaned into Silver’s mouth. For the first time, he allowed himself to envision some epilogue for them. After the fighting. After the war. Some measure of peace after the pain and devastation that had consumed so much of his life. 

He remembered that morning on the _Walrus,_ just a few short weeks ago, the threat of war looming over all of them. How they'd kissed and arched against each other, twisting on the suspended cot that was too small for two to sleep comfortably. Not that they hadn't tried. Even then, speaking of the things they missed while at sea, it had seemed an idle fancy. All their time spent ashore was in preparations for battle, strategy and coordinating with their allies. There hadn't been time to truly rest in months. And now…

Silver’s hand slid purposefully down his back, pads of his fingers tracing down to tease at the crease of his ass. Flint groaned brokenly, taken by surprise. He ground his hips down, reveling in the silken hot feel of their erections pressed together. 

“Do you trust me?” Silver asked, a little breathlessly. 

“Yes,” Flint said, without hesitation. It hadn't always been true, but he felt it now with every fiber of his being. 

The smile Silver gifted him with then was so genuine, so open, he felt overcome with the urge to kiss him again. But then Silver moved his finger, a tease of pressure so close to breaching him that it made Flint gasp, and Silver’s face took on that indecent glint once more. 

“Turn around. I want you facing away from me.”

Flint furrowed his brow, wanting to continue kissing but knowing from Silver’s tone he would enjoy whatever Silver had planned. He shifted, sitting up and moving his knees until he was facing away but still knelt over Silver on the bed. 

Flint went still, his breath catching in his throat as he caught sight of the full-length mirror beside the bed. Silver sat up behind him, meeting Flint’s gaze through the mirror’s reflection as he laid a kiss on Flint’s shoulder. 

“Like this,” Silver said. He reached beside them for the jar of slick he'd gotten some weeks ago from one of Max’s girls. Flint hadn't even noticed it until then, so taken he'd been with the view of Silver on the bed. And now Silver was bringing his hand down, pressing slick fingers to the spot he had teased only a moment ago, and Flint drew in a sharp breath as his thighs quivered.

“There, I've got you,” Silver said, his free hand wrapping around Flint’s torso as he slowly opened Flint up with two fingers. Flint shuddered, angling his hips to make it easier. It was so much. The battle, the stress over the last several weeks, the cathartic sense of releasing that tension as Silver worked him open. Flint groaned into the touch, angling his head back as Silver nuzzled into the side of his neck. Silver hummed approvingly. 

“ _God_ , James, the look on your face earlier,” Silver said. 

“ _Nnghh_ , when was that?” Flint asked. His eyes fell shut and he let out a whimper as Silver pressed in a third finger to join the other two. The stretch was overwhelming, but he was accustomed to it. He _wanted_ it, and what would soon follow. 

“Right after I kissed you. The way you looked at me...I've never felt so invincible. Did you hear them? The men? I doubt many of them were even surprised.”

Flint faltered a moment, long-held fears burrowing deep. “They won't all celebrate it. Some of them—”

“I'll deal with them,” Silver said, a note of dreadful finality to it. A part of Flint, the part he had long since stopped denying, could not help but respond to that darkness in Silver, and he shivered. “I'll deal with _any_ of them who want to deny us this.”

Flint swallowed, overcome a moment by the fervor in Silver’s words. Silver’s arm, wrapped around Flint’s torso, clutched at him protectively. 

“Open your eyes, James.”

Flint did, feeling something close to dizziness as he did so. His pupils were wide as he met his own gaze in the mirror. His face and chest were flushed, body near shaking from Silver slowly plying him with slick fingers. He couldn't bear to look on himself very long, too shaken by the openness and vulnerability in the act. Instead, he met Silver’s eyes, filled with heat and promise as Silver finally withdrew his fingers and guided Flint onto his cock. 

Flint bit back a groan, breath catching in his throat. At this angle, he could feel every inch of Silver’s exquisite length. He felt immobilized by the pleasure he took from it, stretched and full, his own erection forgotten. No matter how they did this, no matter how many times they battled for dominance or relinquished control, Flint would never tire of this feeling. 

Silver’s hand moved across the planes of his chest, abruptly pinching his nipple. Flint hissed, eyes flying open as he clenched down. He hadn't even realized he'd shut them again. Silver smirked in the reflection, rocking his hips upward as he rubbed his fingers, more gently now, across Flint’s nipple. 

“ _Fuck_ —John,” Flint moaned, his thighs quivering as he rocked down to meet Silver’s thrusting. 

“Yes, that's it,” Silver said. “Just like that, ride my cock.”

It was as if something deep and primal had been loosed within Flint. Lingering thoughts of what the crew might think melted away. Most of them were probably half drunk by now anyway. None of that mattered, nothing but _this_ , Silver’s arms around him, Silver’s cock within him. The aching of his thighs as he moved himself upon that cock. Silver’s eyes half-hooded with pleasure in the mirror’s reflection. 

“God, _look at you_ ,” Silver said. “You're so fucking beautiful.”

The words were so tinged with reverence and adoration, Flint couldn't help but feel self-conscious. He gritted his eyes closed again, as if by doing so he could somehow hide from the way Silver’s words made his heart stutter. 

“ _James_.” The way he said it, it was almost pleading. Silver’s hand skated down his abdomen, almost but not quite where Flint wanted him to touch. “Please...look at yourself.”

Flint swallowed, then opened his eyes. It was worth it for the way Silver’s expression lit up, then softened, before Flint did as Silver had asked and properly looked at his own reflection. It was no accident, the way he avoided his countenance. Lately, it was just a reminder of how much time had altered him. The shorter hair, the longer beard. The face weathered by sun and wind and saltwater. The body covered in scars it had not carried ten years prior. There had been times, darker moments in the midst of this war motivated by drink, when he'd thought of how Thomas and Miranda would scarcely recognize the man he'd become. Even Miranda, who had seen so much of his descent, had never witnessed him in that state. 

And yet, John did not look at him for the man he once was. John looked on him now, gaze full of awe and kinship and understanding. They were familiar creatures, two lost souls that had clung together despite reason and come out stronger for it. 

“Look at you,” John repeated, and this time, he obeyed. “You're incredible, James. You're a vengeful god to those men and women out there. Those who would defy you would cast you as a demon. But I see you, James. _I see you_.”

James whimpered as John’s hand finally closed around his cock. He moved, rocking into that grip then bearing down again, watching himself and John as they moved together in the mirrored reflection. His thighs were trembling and aching but he couldn't stop, not with John looking at him like that, not with that sight before him. Not with the feel of John inside him and John’s hand around him. Not with the dawning awareness that if they had survived this chapter of of the war, perhaps they could do it again. And again. Until they finally had their hard-earned peace. 

James gasped, clenching down on John as he came, his body shuddering as he spilled over John’s hand. John only managed a few more upward thrusts, clinging hard to James’ body, before he went tense. John buried his face in James’ shoulder, and he watched in the mirror as John’s hair cascaded down his chest. They were both breathless, trembling, feeling the aftershocks of pleasure singing along their nerves. 

“John,” James murmured, reaching up to gently push those curls back. John lifted his head, a satisfied, bleary smile tugging the corner of his mouth. 

James rose slowly, just enough that he could extricate himself and turn around, the better to lay down on the bed beside John. If John had more energy, he would probably have several sarcastic remarks to make about their current level of defilement in the governor’s bed. James smiled to himself as he stretched out on the blankets, fatigue from the day finally catching up with him. Before he lay down fully, he paused a moment, propping himself on an elbow as he leaned over John’s face. Blue eyes blinked up at him. 

“I see you, too,” James said.

John smiled, pulling him down until their lips met. 


End file.
